Too Many Walls and Not Enough Bridges
by CamsthiSky
Summary: There's something bothering Damian. Dick's determined to help Damian feel comfortable enough to share it.


based off the prompt: "Prompt: Damian Wayne + his brothers; Damian gets dosed with some kind of experimental truth serum"

* * *

"Robin?" Dick calls out, coughing a little on the dust that's still settling around him. He can't see anything, even with the cowl lenses's visuals, so he's going to have to rely on voice alone to find Damian. Stumbling forward, he hopes he doesn't trip over the boy by accident if Damian's not standing. "Robin! Answer me!"

"I'm here," a hoarse voice calls out, and Dick changes his direction so that he's walking towards Damian, and not away from him. It doesn't _sound_ like Damian's hurt, but if Dick's learned anything the past year, it's that Damian is _very_ good at hiding when he's injured.

As it happens, Damian ends up walking into _him._ He looks fine besides the heavy coating of white dust coating his uniform and hair. He coughs into a gloved fist and glares at Dick.

"This is _your_ fault," Damian tells him.

If Dick weren't wearing the cowl, he would have pinched the bridge of his nose to stem the oncoming headache. Or the current headache. He might be a little concussed, he thinks, and he'll have to have Alfred check him over when they get back to the Bunker.

But Damian. Gotta answer.

"He had a _bomb_ , Robin," Dick sighs out. "I wish I'd had time to defuse it, but it was the building or _you."_

And it had been close, too. Dick had been careless, and the guy had managed to capture Robin earlier in the night. And when Dick had managed to find where the guy had stashed Robin, he'd been given thirty seconds to save Damian or defuse a bomb.

It hadn't really been much of a choice. Knowing there'd been no way to do both, Dick had undone Damian's restraints, grabbed the kid, and all but tossed the two of them out the nearest window. The heat of the bomb had been intense, but the cape had kept Dick pretty unharmed, and Damian's must have, too.

Damian scoffs. "I needed you to save me."

Dick blinks in surprise at the words, and Damian all but freezes. He's not looking at Dick anymore, angry glare pointed towards the ground instead.

"Okay. You're welcome," Dick says, grinning and ruffling Damian's hair. He doesn't say anything more, just ducks away with a scowl, and Dick cocks his head towards the street. The dust and smoke has settled some, and things are actually _visible_ now. "Let's get out of here before the cops arrive. I'll brief Gordon on the way."

Damian nods, and that's that.

* * *

"Well," Alfred says, shining the penlight _directly_ into Dick's eyes, "I can say I am almost ninety percent sure that your eyeballs are not in danger of falling out of your face."

Dick grins slyly. "Was that a joke, Alf?"

Alfred sniffs. "Certainly not, sir. I was merely stating that you have no need to worry about that particular ailment. You are, however," Alfred gives Dick a pointed look, "mildly concussed."

Dick hums, hopping off the cot. Alfred has to steady him when he sways dangerously to the side, but he manages to get himself stabilized and standing upright without help after a few seconds. Damian watches this all with thoughtful green eyes, and if Dick were more concussed, maybe he'd ask, but there's a new wall there that Dick's not sure how to climb over quite yet.

So he doesn't ask. Just looks over at Damian and gestures to the cot. He grins. "All yours, Dami."

Damian nods curtly, and climbs onto Dick's previously vacated spot. Dick leans against the back of a chair. And he watches.

"Is there anything particular I should check, Master Damian?" Alfred asks dryly. "Or should I give you a full look over after you tell me that everything is fine."

Damian hesitates before he says, "I think I might have sprained my ankle during the fall."

Alfred raises his eyebrow. "The fall?"

"We decided to jump off the roof of a thirty story building because there was a giant green giraffe chasing us," Dick tells Alfred, raising his eyebrows and grinning as he settles into his chair backwards, tired of standing. "Almost took me out when it started spitting fire. Right, Damian?"

Damian snorts, rolling his eyes. "You and your inane stories, Grayson."

But Dick takes it as a win, because Damian is acting just a bit more like _Damian._ And that's all Dick can ask for, even if he's not sure exactly why Damian's so distant from him and Alfred yet. He's hoping that Damian will come to him on his own, but he's not going to force his little brother if he doesn't want to tell.

"So no giant green giraffe," Alfred muses exasperatedly. "Care to tell me what really happened, Master Damian?"

"It's—" Damian stutters to a stop, his expression souring. Then he clicks his tongue, looks away, and says, "There was a bomb, and Richard saved me by throwing us out the third story window."

Alfred blinks, and Dick schools his face into something he's sure is blank—but probably just as telling. Guess he'd just have to try a little harder.

"Darn it, Dami," Dick whines after a moment of tense silence, just to bring some normality back to the situation. "Now I'm gonna get a lecture about throwing people out windows."

Damian sends him a panicked look. "I didn't—"

"I'm almost certain that you already had that lecture, Master Dick," Alfred interrupts. "Twice. Do we need to revisit it?"

"Nah," Dick says, grinning as he crosses his arms over the backrest of the chair and sets his chin on them. "Between you and me, I'd rather it was Bruce who gave the lecture. At least I can walk away from him without worrying about whether my dinner is going to get served with extra lima beans that I'll _have_ to eat."

And there's a part of Dick that'll relish having Bruce lecture him like he's fourteen and Robin again. It means that Bruce is _back,_ no matter how much it feels like he's being torn apart when he sees his dad. Because his dad isn't dead anymore! But there's a part of Dick that's moved on, and it's just confusion and relief and anger and pure, unadulterated joy that wars inside him at every conversation over video chat.

Alfred sends Dick a look once he's carefully taken Damian's boot off of his foot. "Might I suggest a shower, Master Dick. And if you happen to slip and fall, by all means, call Master Bruce."

Dick grins. "You know he'll come running back."

"Don't I know it," Alfred sighs. Then he makes a shooing gesture. "Off with you, Master Dick. You'll feel much better afterwards."

Dick heads to the showers, calling over his shoulder, "Call me if you need any help!"

He pretends not to notice Damian's eyes on him as he walks by. He's pretty sure he succeeds.

* * *

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Dick asks a couple hours later.

It's almost three in the morning, and it's obvious that neither him nor Damian are going to be sleeping tonight at this rate, and Dick's thinking that the security of a bunch of pillows and blankets while they watch a nice movie will be enough to lull both of them to sleep.

Or maybe thinking is too strong of a word. It's more like hoping. That is, as long as Damian agrees.

Surprisingly, even with that wall around him, Damian doesn't disagree right away. He stops typing on his tablet and looks up somewhat guardedly at Dick. Instead of answering, though, he shrugs.

Dick tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing. It's been a while since they came back and Damian's hardly said a word to him. Still, he doesn't want to scare Damian off, so he keeps up the charade of normality. He has about a ten percent success rate of forcing things out of Damian. Letting Damian come to him on his own helps build up trust between them, too, so Dick won't force anything.

"Soooooo, yes or no?" Dick asks.

"...Which movie?"

Dick shrugs. "Whichever you want."

Damian takes a moment to respond again, and Dick lets them stew in the quiet for a moment. He's had stakeouts that lasted _days_ , he can handle a few moments waiting for a eleven year old to get past his insecurities and tell him what kind of movie he wants to watch.

Damian bites his lip. "Would a Disney movie be sufficient?"

"Do you _want_ to watch a Disney movie?" Dick asks. "Because if not, we can watch something else."

" _The Incredibles_ ," Damian says, almost reluctantly.

Dick grins. "Great, I'll go set it up. Alfred went to bed, so can you pop us some popcorn?"

Damian nods, and they head upstairs to the penthouse they're still living in. Bruce is traveling around the world, Cass is still in Hong Kong, Tim and Steph and Babs and Jason are all doing their own thing, and it's just him and Damian and Alfred. And after the craziness of Bruce coming back and their family trying to fit together again in the past few weeks, Dick thinks it's rather nice to just spend some time together again alone. Just the two of them.

They settle in, and they watch.

* * *

Dick ends up falling asleep at some point during the movie. So when he wakes up, he finds himself staring at the ceiling of the penthouse living room, wondering why the hell he's up again if it's still dark with pre-dawn gloom. He should most _definitely_ be asleep still.

That's when he hears the voices.

Damian's is the closest, hissing almost right underneath his ear, and it takes a moment to realize that he'd curled up around Damian sometime between falling asleep and waking up. Damian doesn't sound very happy, either, harsh whispers falling from his mouth.

"—just go _away_ ," Damian's saying. "You can talk to him in the morning instead of butting into our lives again."

"In case you hadn't noticed, it _is_ morning." That's Tim's voice. He sounds kind of exhausted. Also very irritated, but that's normal when he's talking to Damian. Dick wishes they'd get along. "And this is somewhat urgent."

"'M up," Dick slurs, twitching his arm, but not fully moving. He's more than a little tired and he's got a concussion, so his synapses aren't quite firing at full capacity. Sue him. He turns his head enough so that he can see Tim's figure in the semi-dark living room. "Timmy?"

"Hi, Dick," Tim says. "I need your help with a case."

"Mmkay," Dick says, pushing himself into a sitting position.

Damian comes with him for some reason, and he blinks down at his baby brother, wondering why he's still pretty much glued to his side, but that's when he realizes that Damian's scowling up at him. Another moment and Dick realizes that he hasn't actually let _go_ of Damian yet. Well. Whatever. Damian hasn't nerve pinched him yet and there aren't any protests, so Dick doesn't let go.

When he focuses on Tim's face, his heart falls into his stomach. There's a bitter expression of jealousy that Tim can't quite hide from his big brother, and Dick wishes for once that he could just do something right. But he's not awake enough for any of this, and he makes a note to do something about it later.

"The case?" Dick asks.

"I need your help with a warehouse raid tonight," Tim tells him. "There'll be too many bodies for me to handle alone, and Batgirl's out of commission."

"Sure." Dick yawns. "Lemme know the details, and I'll be there."

"I'm going," says Damian before Tim can get a word in edgewise. Dick blinks down at him, and that's when he finally notices that it's not just him holding onto Damian. Damian's holding onto _him._ He insists, "I'm going with you."

Dick opens his mouth, ready to shrug and say, _Alright_ , because Batman and Robin work as a team, and an extra person is always great in pretty much every situation.

Tim beats him, though, and his answer is, "No. I only need Batman on this."

Dick's frown is immediate. "Tim," he starts, but he gets cut off by Damian.

"I'm _going,"_ Damian snaps, his hold on Dick tightening. "And you can't stop me, Drake."

Dick's losing control of the situation. Or he would have been, if he'd ever had a handle on it in the first place.

"I could stop you with my hands tied behind my back," Tim shoots back.

"You could _try,"_ Damian tells him, loosening his hold on Dick and standing up to face Tim. Dick stands up, too. He's not sure exactly what he's getting ready for, but with the wall Damian's already got up, he's got a feeling this is going to get explosive.

"Tim," Dick says as placating as possible. "It isn't going to hurt to have Robin there."

Tim deflates. "I was kind of hoping that it could be just us, though," he tells Dick. "We haven't worked any cases together later."

Dick's lips thin. He wishes he knew how to do this. How to balance himself between two brothers again-three, if he's counting Jason. But Jason doesn't want to be counted, so Dick's going to leave that one for later, when they're on more than just "sometimes spontaneously fighting together" terms.

But this thing between Tim and Damian? Dick doesn't know how to deal with it. How to make sure he's available to both his little brothers when they both want him separately. And if he's being honest, him and Tim are still having somewhat of a rocky time, and spending time together without Damian to clear a bit of the air would be just what they'd need.

But Damian wouldn't take that well at all.

"You're not seriously considering this, are you?" Damian hisses, stepping back from Dick, his eyes furious. It's a different wall that's up, now. One that Dick's pretty familiar with, and he hates to see it rear its head again. "I thought we were supposed to be partners."

"Damian—"

"I hate you!" Damian yells, and Dick's heart stops in his chest and sinks down in his stomach. He can't breathe, and he wonders if this is how Bruce feels every time he talks with Jason, because it feels like he's been stabbed a thousand times in the chest, and it hurts so _goddamn_ much.

And then Dick realizes that Damian's not actually looking at _him._ He's looking at Tim.

"I hate you!" Damian yells again. "You take everything good I ever have!"

And with that, Damian's running out of the living room and into his own bedroom, door slamming behind him.

Dick's still relearning how to breathe when Tim throws his arms up in the air and yells, "How do you even deal with him?!"

Dropping his face into his hands, Dick takes a few deep breaths. It's not that Dick doesn't understand where Tim's coming from. He does. He _does._ He'd spent those first couple weeks working with Damian trying his best not to strangle the kid. But gradually, Dick had come to love Damian like he had only a few other people in his life, and Dick can't even imagine how it'd be if Damian weren't in his life anymore. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to _not_ deal with him.

Hell, he _raised_ this kid for an entire _year._ Sometimes he loved his baby brother so much his heart would ache, because there's a whole ten years where Damian hadn't known _any_ kind of love besides Talia's-and Talia hadn't exactly been mother of the year.

"He's an eleven year old kid," Dick says slowly, in the calmest voice he can muster as he finally looks up at Tim. "He's eleven, and he's still unlearning everything that he ever learned in the League of Assassins."

Tim doesn't say anything to that. Instead, he lips press together, like he's holding back all of his thoughts and feelings, and Dick wants to shake some sense into Tim. Take him by the shoulders and shake him until he can see how much Damian's grown. See how much Damian just needs someone to love him and care for him.

He doesn't. It won't work, anyways. He and Tim are still on thin ice themselves, and trying to change Tim's point of view of Damian by just _telling_ him everything won't do anything good. All it will do is make things worse.

So Dick sighs and says, "Send me the details for tonight. I'll be there, and I'll have Damian work from the Bunker."

Tim nods once, silently, and then he's gone. Dick heads for Damian's bedroom, and knocks on the door.

"Damian?" Dick calls. "It's me. Tim's gone."

"Go away, Grayson!" Damian shouts.

"If you really want me to, I will," Dick says. "But if you're up to it, I'd like to talk."

There's a moment of tense quiet. The air is charged with anticipation, and Dick counts to two hundred and eighty-seven before the door opens a crack and Damian's green eyes glitter angrily out from the other side.

"What do you want?" Damian grounds out.

"First things first," Dick says. "Do you want to be alone?"

Damian tenses, opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. He shoves the door open, and then puts a hand over his eyes. He's frustrated. When he answers, he sounds like he's close to crying. "No."

"Okay," Dick says. "Can I come in so we can talk?"

Wordlessly, Damian turns around and stomps over to his bed. He sits down, and Dick sits down next to him after he shuts the door, much quieter than Damian had a few minutes ago.

"Are you alright?" Dick wonders.

Damian nods.

Dick's brow furrows. "Are you sure?"

"I'm—" Damian huffs a breath. "I'm not fine."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Alright." Dick's just glad that Damian's being honest. He won't push it too far tonight. Especially not after that—that _whatever_ it was with Tim. "Something's bothering you, though. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'm here to listen."

"I don't want to talk about Drake," Damian says flatly.

Dick hears the hidden meaning. "But there's something else you wanted to talk about?"

Damian squares his jaw, stubbornly looking at anything but Dick. Dick, still hearing the _I hate you_ that hadn't been quite directed at him, but had broken his heart just the same, doesn't press. He waits him out. Just like he had with the movie.

"The man who captured Robin last night," Damian finally says. "He was raving mad, but apparently he was a scientist. He injected me with—with an experimental truth serum. I am unable to lie."

Dick blinks. Then he absorbs. And then his breath catches, and he pushes himself off the bed with a sharp, " _Damian Wayne."_

Damian hunches in on himself, but doesn't respond.

Dick feels like he can barely _breathe_ he's so angry and upset and terrified all at once. "Why didn't you _say_ anything?!" Damian still doesn't speak, and Dick's heart is in his throat. He keeps going, because he doesn't know what else to do. "You have no idea what affects this experimental truth serum is having on you. You _can't_ keep something like this from me. We're supposed to be partners!"

"Partners don't leave each other for another!" Damian yells, standing up as well. "As your partner, I wouldn't choose anyone over you, and that is _exactly_ what you are doing by leaving me behind for your raid with Drake!"

"Damian—"

"I would _never!"_ Damian's crying now. "I would never choose someone else to partner with! I would never choose anybody else but you!"

"Damian!" Dick grabs his little brother and drags him into a hug. Damian doesn't resist, but he's rigid. He doesn't melt into the contact, but all that does is make Dick squeeze him harder. As unused to hugging as Damian is, he fights when he doesn't want it, and sometimes when he wants it, he doesn't know how to make himself accept it, so Dick keeps ahold of him. "I don't want you talking about this unless you can say what you want, _how_ you want. Not under the effects of truth serum."

Dick swallows. "But," he says, "I'm going to tell you some things. You don't have to say anything, but I want you to know this: I love you. You're my little brother, and my partner. We're the best, right? And me patrolling with Tim or Jason or Steph once in a while doesn't change that. Just because I'm trying to make up with Tim, it doesn't mean that I love you any less. Do you hear me?"

Damian sniffs. "Yes," he whispers into Dick's shirt. "I hear you."

Dick smiles and relaxes somewhat. "Good. You're family, Damian. Remember that, okay?"

"Okay."

They sit there for a while, and Damian eventually melts into Dick's hug, letting himself be held for a long moment. The conversation is far from over, and they have a lot of things to talk about still, but Dick doesn't think that Damian is going to run away or strike out on his own anytime soon, and he seems willing to at least hear Dick out, so Dick takes it as a win for tonight. They'll talk some more when Damian's _not_ being affected by truth serum.

Finally, Damian pulls away, his eyes rimmed red. Dick pretends like he doesn't notice.

"Let's go find Alfred," Dick says. "See if we can mix an antidote to that truth serum."

Damian nods, and Dick leads them out of his bedroom. They meet Alfred in the living room, standing in the morning light. At some point during the fight, the sun had come up and Alfred had gotten ready.

"I trust that things are resolved," Alfred says, eyebrow raised in a silent question.

Dick smiles. It's not joyous or anything of the sort, but it's relaxed. "Not quite, but we're getting there," Dick says.

Alfred nods, and they make their way down to the Bunker. Dick follows, and when Damian glances at him, he sends him a smile. They'll make it through this. He knows they will.


End file.
